Every Rose Has Its Thorns
by kitkatieisme
Summary: "He knew it was stupid, so stupid, to be jealous of himself. The Doctor is jealous of himself. Pathetic, right? But this was for Rose. And after all he'd done, well, he owed this to Rose, didn't he?" A short drabble based on the ending of Journey's End where the Doctor thinks too much and life isn't fair to everyone but the Doctor tries to make it fair to Rose.


The Doctor doesn't like to think too much. Never has. He's lived too long. Seen too much. But maybe it used to be easier – even marginally so. Because when his mind wanders now, it always, _always_ goes back to Rose.

Thinking about Rose breaks his heart. And he always remembers the last time he saw her.

It takes weeks to bury those memories into the back of his mind again. Because everything about that day _hurt_.

He knew it was stupid, so stupid, to be jealous of himself. The Doctor was – _is _– jealous of a _lesser, mortal_ version of himself. Pathetic, right?

But this was for Rose. Rose wouldn't be happy with him in the same way she could be happy with other-him. And after all he'd done, well, he owed this to Rose, didn't he?

And god, he owes her _so_ much more for everything he put her through. He abandoned her, right here on this bay. He left her.

Because he had no choice, he scoffs to himself. That shouldn't have mattered. Nothing should have mattered when it came to Rose.

_For Rose_, he reminds himself. He'd do anything for Rose.

"He's still not you," Rose had protested. He wanted so bad to agree, to take her with him to see the stars just like old times, but that wouldn't be fair to any of them.

Other-him needed to be looked after. And the Doctor couldn't bear to live forever and watch her grow older and older until she withered away, dying like every other godforsaken person who tried to help him. Every person who he loved.

And Rose, poor Rose, had nearly lost it the last time he had regenerated. He knew he wouldn't live forever; how could he, in good conscience, do that to her again?

"And I'm him," he insisted to Rose, desperate she would agree and not break his heart into any more pieces than it was already in. One of these days, he might break it one too many times and fall apart.

He couldn't do that. He couldn't collapse when there are entire universes out there who need his help to keep moving.

"Alright," Rose decided. "Both of you, then, answer this. Last time I stood here, on the _worst_ day of my life, what did you say to me?"

Rose was crying and god, it was because of him. Her words stabbed at him like physical blows and he felt his heart split into another piece.

"I said Rose Tyler," the Doctor said solemnly. Because really, that was all he said. And it was more than he should have said. He never should have started that sentence because all it seemed to do was hurt both of them beyond belief.

"Yeah? And how did that sentence end?"

And he wished so badly he could answer her. He wanted to answer her and hug her and kiss her again. But he couldn't. He might break.

"It doesn't really need saying," he implored.

But of course it needed saying. Just not by him.

And really, she knew how that sentence ended. Why break his own heart by saying it aloud? If he said it, he could never leave her here.

And he knew, even though it hurt, (and _oh_, did it hurt) she needed to stay here. It really was the best thing for all of them.

And he owed her fair. Just once, she deserved fair.

Rose swallows, and the Doctor knew then that she understood because she always understood these things. That's one of the _far too many_ reasons he loves her. Not _loved_, mind you. He cares a lot, _too much_, even, for his newer companions, but Rose was something special. She'll always be something special.

When you live for 900 years in different bodies, it does wonders to your perspective. One of the many, many things the Doctor has learned is how rare and completely special it is to fall in love. The Doctor tries to love everyone he meets who deserves it, but falling in love is a different matter all together.

It doesn't happen as often, but when it does happen, the Doctor has learned that its something you cherish. It's also something you never forget.

Even if part of you wants to.

Rose turned to the other-him. "And you?" she all but begs.

The Doctor watches as other-him leans close to whisper in her ear. Maybe, just maybe, his memories provided enough information to let other-him know that he couldn't bear hear it said out loud from another mouth.

Even if it _is_ the same mouth.

But he sees the other Doctor mouth the words that had been on the tip of his tongue all those years ago, and all the time since then, and that he'd been wanting to say for a long time even before he left her on this bay. Even since his ninth generation.

And it hurt even to see himself say those words because it should never come from any mouth but his. He swallows thickly.

And other-him tells her everything he's ever wanted to let her know, and she reaches up and kisses him. Well, other-him.

So the Doctor does the only thing he knows how to do anymore; he turns his back. He tries to retreat back into the TARDIS. If there was one thing Davros was right about, it was that he didn't like looking back.

He's numb.

He thought he knew pain. He was wrong.

He thought he knew heartbreak. He was wrong.

Rose calls after him. He could never deny her anything. He turns around again even though he knew it would break his heart.

He gives Rose her closure. It's the least he could do. And he leaves her with other-him because that's what needs to happen. It's the right thing to do. For all three of them.

So yeah, he knows it's pretty stupid to be jealous of himself.

But he _is_ jealous.

And not just because the other version of him is mortal. Not just because he doesn't have to watch everyone he cares about die around him while he's forced to keep running. Not even just because that lucky regeneration gets to spend his one, wonderfully mortal life with Rose.

No. He's jealous because the other Doctor got to tell her all those things he's had to keep bottled up. That version of himself got to tell her he loves her, something he couldn't tell her himself because this is the best thing for his beloved Rose.

A moment of weakness there would have hurt _both_ of them too much. It would've broken both of their hearts.

Hasn't her heart been broken enough?

* * *

**A/N: So I've never written anything for Doctor Who before. How'd I do?  
**

**I was watching _Journey's End_ and then this sort of...happened. I don't really know what to make of it but I thought I'd post it anyways just for kicks and giggles.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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